Lights

Ryan's eyes reluctantly opened as he peered at the analogue alarm clock sitting amongst various books and papers on his bed-side table. He groaned when he read that it was seven am and almost pushed the covers back, when he realised that it as his day off. Instead, he pulled the covers up even higher around his ears and buried his face into the blanket with a relieved sigh, thinking that he really needed more of these days off because sleeping in and keeping warm for longer were two things he rather liked.

No light filtered in through the curtains, and his room was still dark with the bare furniture and mess barely visible in the feeble light. He closed his eyes again, easily falling back into a peaceful slumber with his dreams very far away from obnoxious customers and tables wanting to be waited on.

The dreams of other things didn't last very long, however, because only an hour or so later he heard light footsteps that pulled him out of sleep. He refused to open his eyes, still clinging to any remnants of his dreams that he could, a lightly annoyed moan exiting his lips.

The footsteps went around to the other side of the bed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder – a cold hand, even with the material of his t-shirt between the person's fingers and his skin.

“Ryan,” a voice whispered, the word harsh in his ear. “Hey, Ryan. Are you awake?”

Ryan forced his eyes to open so that he could see a frowning Brendon standing above his bed, his arms clamped around his waist as he hugged himself. As the blurriness of Ryan's vision began to fade, and his eyes started to focus, he noticed the goosebumps rising on Brendon's skin.

“You look cold,” Ryan mumbled. “What's wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” Brendon said, his voice quiet and blending into the room.

Ryan turned onto his back, pulled the covers down a little and patted the space on the mattress beside him. Brendon stared for a few seconds before kneeling on the bed and crawling under the blankets. He leaned his head on the pillow next to Ryan, and the pair of them stared at the ceiling in an empty silence.

Ryan didn't want to speak. He didn't want to force Brendon into talking despite how curious he was to know. He kept glancing at Brendon, tilting his head slightly to see the younger boy still focusing on the white paint flaking above their heads. So he just waited, his tenseness fading as he almost started to forget what he was waiting for. Drowsiness started to kick in again, and he forced his eyelids open and kept his ears alert for any sign that he was about to be told something important.

Brendon hadn't been in his room like this before. He'd only ever gone in after Ryan to fetch clothes. He'd never come in while only Ryan was in there.

After so long that Ryan had lost count of the minutes, Brendon murmured, “I'm sorry.”

“What?” Ryan's tone was confused.

“I'm sorry,” Brendon repeated, not offering anything more.

“But... why are you sorry?” Ryan turned his head so that he was facing Brendon. “I really don't get you.”

“I'm just... I'm sorry.” Brendon was so tense, Ryan could feel his whole body locked into position, and could see the lines formed at the side of his mouth.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm a stupid person,” Brendon said, simply.

“What the hell brought this on? Just – what? What did you do?”

“I've done a lot of stupid things,” Brendon replied. His gaze drifted along the bed before he raised it to Ryan's eyes for a second. When he realised Ryan was looking at him with such a confused expression, he hastily looked back down at the bed again. “I... I'm not a good person, Ry.”

“What?”

“I'm --”

“I know what you said, I just don't get it,” Ryan interrupted, shaking his head. He pushed himself up so that he was leaning on his elbow.

“You don't have to.”

“I think I do.” Ryan frowned. “You're a good person.”

“I'm not.”

“How can you say you're not?”

Brendon's mouth fell open. “How can you say I am?”

“You've been here, what, three weeks now? You haven't done anything horrible, but you've had enough opportunity.”

“I've done bad things,” Brendon said, his voice low and serious. “I'm not a good person. I don't deserve anything you've done for me, Ryan. I don't deserve to live here --”

“But you do!”

“-- Or eat your food, or see your friends, or wear your clothes. I just don't, okay?”

Ryan shook his head again. “You can't be serious. You had nowhere to go before, Bren,” he said. “You deserve this. You need somewhere to stay and be safe after doing whatever you did on the streets for however long.”

“I don't!” Brendon's eyes had a slight shine to them, and Ryan looked at him uselessly, hoping for the words to come, but he couldn't choke them out.

“Why don't you?”

Brendon opened his mouth to reply, then slowly shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. “I'm sorry. I just... I can't tell you.”

“Please, Brendon. What's wrong?”

“I can't,” Brendon sighed. “But... but I feel bad. I took all this from you when I don't deserve it. I'm a bad person. I can't do this.” He inhaled a deep, ragged breath all of a sudden, which made Ryan jump. “I'll go.”

“No!” Ryan said quickly, snapping up into an upright position. “No, Brendon, you can't leave now.”

“But --”

“I don't care if you think you're a bad person,” Ryan said. “You haven't done anything wrong as far as I'm concerned. You're a good person, Bren. You should stay here.”

“I don't --”

“You do. Besides, I want you to stay here.” Ryan rubbed his forearm with a grin. “I like having a room mate. I have to admit, it's a little more fun than living on my own. And – and besides! You just got a job.”

Brendon looked at him doubtfully, his eyebrows skewed with worry and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

“Please stay, Brendon,” Ryan said, quietly. “You can't go back to whatever it was before. Whatever you were running from.”

Brendon choked suddenly and buried his face in his hands.

“Brendon, are you all right?” Ryan asked with concern in his voice.

He heard a sniff and then Brendon removed his hands, looking much the same as he did before. He nodded slowly, then his lips contorted into a shaky, hesitant smile. “I'm all right,” he whispered.

“Are you going to stay here?”

“I don't know.”

“Don't leave. You're safe here.”

Brendon continued nodding and closed his eyes. A few moments later, he opened them again, and his smile was more confident.

“You'll stay?” Ryan asked again.

“I'll stay,” Brendon agreed.

Ryan heaved a huge sigh of relief and collapsed back down into the mattress again. “Thank God, I thought I was going to have to go back to living life on my own.”

“I told you that you needed excitement,” Brendon chuckled. “Maybe I'm just the level you needed. I don't think you're quite at bar level yet.”

“No,” Ryan said, thoughtfully. “I don't really think I am either.”

They fell back into silence, and Ryan could hear Brendon's slightly gasping breaths fade back into normal, rhythmic breathing. The steady noise centred Ryan's thoughts for a few moments before suddenly they started to stray into that he didn't expect. Normal things started to turn into random, nonsensical ideas with the breath beat staying in the background all the while.

Ryan started to doze off, his ideas turning into dreams, and his head lolled onto his pillow.

He slept for another two hours, and when he woke up, Brendon had disappeared from the bed and the covers were pulled right up.